


Light

by flowersforgraves



Series: BTHB [9]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Control Interface Chair, Gen, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 00:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16566446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Rush sits in the control interface chair. It doesn't go well.





	Light

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from anon on tumblr: tied to a chair + rush.
> 
> (card [here](https://flowersforgraves.tumblr.com/post/177921515881/); current list of claimed and filled prompts [here](https://flowersforgraves.tumblr.com/post/179920852891/))

_It's almost like a bondage restraint,_ Rush thinks hysterically, and decides not to pass out in favor of biting his lip until he tastes blood. Unfortunately, the sharp copper tang doesn't stop the pained noise from slipping from between his clenched teeth, and instead he can hear the dull whirring of the mechanisms. He curls his fingers around the ends of the armrests, nails digging into the remnants of the padding there -- it should have all rotted away by now, thousands of years later, but it’s not gone yet, still holding on with all the damned tenacity of Rush himself when he’s got his teeth deep in a problem -- and he tries to force his vocal cords to produce any sort of sound at all.

But he's so tightly wound, bound so firmly to the chair, that he can't do anything voluntarily except sit there and try not to fall apart. There's a band across his forehead, holding his head upright as the lights shine into his eyes. There are bands across his wrists, keeping his hands still. There are bands around his ankles, so he can't kick out, let alone stand. There's even one across his lap like a fucking seatbelt, _keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times_ and _remain seated until the vehicle has come to a complete stop_ , and the only fucking sound he can make is apparently a pale imitation of a wheezing laugh, and it hurts, it fucking hurts to be held there while the chair mucks about in his head, while it feels like someone is digging around in his brain with a spoon, while he's battered with _thoughts-memories-images-places-names-concepts-numbers-music_ until his vision whites out and he wonders if he's going to die here.

It's an indeterminate amount of time before Rush becomes conscious of anything except the chair. When he does get used to it enough to perceive other things, the first -- only -- thing he hears is Greer, voice reassuringly calm through the fog of sensation. It takes time before Rush can even comprehend what Greer is saying, which turns out to be a steady stream of numbers in a sing-song cadence. It's even longer before he realizes Greer is holding a conversation with an unheard other, and longer still before it sinks in that Eli is on the other end of the radio. Greer is feeding Eli data from the chair, and Rush wonders vaguely if he's looking for a way to stop this or a way to suck all the information he possibly can from the chair, from Destiny, from Rush himself, before the strain of this kills him.

Of course, as soon as Rush figures this out, there's another surge of something from the chair, and the sound of Greer's voice fades, replaced by a high-pitched whirring noise -- not quite the same as the chair mechanisms, not quite different from the consoles in the control interface room as they struggle to keep up with input from various members of the science team. Even the pain fades, somehow, as if his nerves have reached the maximum threshold and can't even comprehend how much it hurts anymore. He floats away, and wishes to see Gloria again soon.


End file.
